


The Worth of the Anchor

by LibraLibrary



Category: Mystery Skulls Animated
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Established OT3, Fluff, Horror, Nightmares, character death but not really, takes place in the same loose continuity of the requests, what they fear episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 21:24:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7331155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibraLibrary/pseuds/LibraLibrary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>She was very quickly starting to understand; whatever was doing this, it wasn’t playing games. This wasn’t a basic, low level, shallow jumpscare and common phobia curse. This magic was scouring their hearts, locating every crack, and digging through to the cores to expand and shatter them from the inside out.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Something wants to tear the trio apart, but what they learn can only pull them closer together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Worth of the Anchor

**Author's Note:**

> _In order to realize the worth of the anchor we need to feel the stress of the storm._  
>  -Corrie Ten Boom

Vivi had never been able to stand being alone. Not like being the only person in a room, that’s different, because there’s always _somebody_ around, always someone to interact with, there’s ultimately nothing but space separating her from human (or dog, or ghost-) contact. Hell, solitude could even be _enjoyable_ at times; a moment to take a breath and let her mind catch up to her heart in responding to just how fast everything around her had changed.

But not like this. Never like this. This wasn’t solitude, or peace.

This was Vivi, just Vivi, _alone._

Lewis was dead. There was no reasoning to it, no further explanation. When she tried to seek one, tried to rack her mind for the details, it was like slamming into a wall. Why did the details matter? Her boyfriend was dead. He was gone.

_He’s not, Vivi. The details matter. Keep searching._

And Arthur...she had to hold back the urge to be sick. He was…

Arthur was…

Where _was_ he?

_That’s the question to ask, Vivi, keep going._

He...he had done something to himself, hadn’t he? She had always been so afraid of that, be it intentional or not. He always seemed so frail, maybe not in strength, but in other things. He never slept anymore, he was always on edge, like one unkind word would shatter him into a thousand-

_When was he last asleep, Vivi?_

She had last seen him when they had gone to bed. All four of them, curled up in a warm tangle on a cold night-

Four. Four of them.

Him, and her, and Mystery, and…

Lewis. Lewis, who was dead, but came back. Lewis, who curled around the mechanic’s shirtless back, reaching out to hold the frail (but still there, he was there with them) boy in between the two of them.

_And when did you wake up, Vivi?_

...She _hadn’t._

“Good girl.”

Vivi sucked in a huge gasp of cold air, and blinked furiously through tears she hadn’t realized were there. A warm weight settled atop her knees, and she tilted her head down slightly. The slender yokai grinned up at his “owner”, tails happily thumping out a relieved pattern against the floor. “I’m proud of you, Vivi. You fought it off faster than I had expected. You always were so bright.”

The bluenette blinked, then threw her arms around Mystery’s neck, burying her face into the soft fur as he chuckled lightly. 

Not alone. Never alone.

“...the boys.”

“They’re caught in it too. Quickly now, Vivi, we have to help them break out. Whatever this spell is, it can’t be good to let them suffer through it for much longer.”

The thought of her boys, writhing and panicking in their own self-imposed hells, lit a fire down her spine. To hell with that.

~*~

When the girl and her (not)dog found themselves surrounded by cold, green-tinged stone, they thought they knew what they were in for. Even now, with all their grievances settled, they both saw the brief flicker of anxiety in Arthur’s face when Mystery transformed, and heard his whimpers from under the covers on misty mornings. Vivi gritted her teeth, steeling her nerves in preparation for watching the night that changed everything from a whole new vantage point. 

The duo were completely blindsided, then, when they heard a shrill scream from the system below (Vivi couldn’t will her blood to thaw, had she really sounded that much like a dying animal?), followed by…

Silence. No snarling. No hideous crack of splintering bone, nor meaty tearing of flesh. Not even, Mystery recalled, shuddering at the ghost of copper and iron gushing between his teeth, the shocked gasp and miserable, guttural moaning of a young man suddenly one limb short of a full set.

Something was wrong. Something was _very wrong_ , and that something was on it’s feet, shuffling at them reluctantly.

Vivi could tell immediately that neither of Arthur’s eyes, both the sickly jade one, bright with glee, nor the pinprick gold one, slowly dribbling a line of thin, horrified tears, were on her. Still, she backed away, unable to contain her fear of the thing that was only half her best friend. Mystery tensed at her side, craning his neck to glance around the possessed boy at the cliff’s edge. What he saw (couldn’t see) only deepened his own concern.

He was nowhere to be found.

There was nobody around to help Arthur.

Which meant-

A horrified moan echoed out behind them, and they turned to look just as the half-Arthur snapped his head up, half-grinning and half-gaping. The blood-spattered bluenette (Vivi gagged, and Mystery had to nudge her to keep her steady; she hadn’t remembered that, she hadn’t remembered _his blood on her-!_ ) dragged herself along the wall, little sharpened outcroppings catching on her sweater and ripping it and her pale skin underneath. She didn’t even flinch.

“A...Arthur, s-s-something….L…L-”

She fell to her knees with a gutwrenching wail, hitting the floor hard and shaking like a rock in a polisher as she broke into pieces. Arthur (not Arthur!) kneeled down before her, shakily reaching out one hand to softly take her chin, and tilted her head up to look at him.

His left hand.

Mystery fought the urge to tackle and mangle the boy, instead putting himself between the horrific scene and the true Vivi. She reached for him, burying her fingers in the loose scruff of his back, and felt her entire soul go cold as the thing’s hand instantly dropped from chin to neck, pushing the dream Vivi harshly onto her back and pressing down on her throat with all the fury and strength it had.

Real Vivi shut her eyes tightly, trying to cover her ears, and failing to block out the hideous gurgles and gasps and cold laughter and unintelligible pleas for mercy. 

The cave fell silent all too quickly, and Mystery’s frantic barking brought her back to the reasoning behind their situation. Vivi’s eyes snapped open, and she couldn’t stop herself from crying out when she saw the stricken mechanic, right hand digging into his wild hair and half sobbing half cackling, backing up.

Towards the ledge.

The same one _Lewis-_

“Vivi, our Arthur is in control now!”

Mystery didn’t have to finish the sentence before she was halfway there. The sickly green tinged slid from the boy’s left side like a sheet slipping off a bed, and the full force of his agonized expression was almost enough to stop Vivi dead in her tracks. 

_Almost_ enough.

His foot met open air, and instead of flailing or crying out, Arthur screwed his eyes shut tightly, bracing himself.

Vivi’s hands dug into the sides of his vest, and with a burst of strength she hadn’t experienced since their last case (some idiot cultist had come this close to actually hurting him, and she’d all but guaranteed he’d never have an intact bone in his body ever again), she hauled him back onto the ledge. In one fluid motion, she sank to the floor, pressing his face into her shoulder as tightly as she could. The instant she had her balance on solid ground, she rocked the stunned blond slowly, peppering his head with kisses and frantically whispering into his hair.

“It’s not real, Artie, it’s all fake! I’m here, Mystery is here, we’re alright, it’s not real-!”

It took a few moments of quiet reassurances for the reality to finally hit Arthur, and he quickly wrapped both arms (one warm flesh, one cool metal, and dear god was that a relief) around Vivi as he sobbed. 

“‘M sorry-! ‘M so sorry!”

The two held each other for what should’ve been hours, but could only be a few moments, before Vivi forced herself to pull back, hands gripping Arthur’s shoulders so tight her knuckles were going white. She bit her lip, the last of another batch of tears streaking down her cheeks as deep concern flooded her face. If this was Arthur’s worst fear…

“We have to find Lewis. _Now.”_

~*~

Before they could fumble around in the dark, following Mystery as he chased Lewis’s essence, Vivi warned Arthur to brace himself. She was very quickly starting to understand; whatever was doing this, it wasn’t playing games. This wasn’t a basic, low level, shallow jumpscare and common phobia curse. This magic was scouring their hearts, locating every crack, and digging through to the cores to expand and shatter them from the inside out. Whatever tailor-made vision of hell Lewis was trapped in, it wouldn’t be pretty.

Arthur had just nodded, clutching at his metal arm and still trying to adjust to “reality”. His false fingers twitched every now and then, and he shuddered each time. Vivi wasn’t kidding; for an illusion, it sure damn felt like her windpipe collapsing under his grip-

He shuddered, but before Vivi could comfort him (of course she knew what was bothering him, she had watched the whole thing from the front row-), they stepped over the invisible threshold into Lewis’s hellscape.

Amazing how, after seeing two separate nightmare visions, including her own death, Vivi lost all composure the second she saw the limp form in yet another doppelganger’s arms. She was on her knees instantly, the steady voice of reason screaming that it was just a bad dream, and being drowned out by the sheer desperate horror of seeing Arthur’s body. Mystery forced himself up under her arm, nudging her cheek with his cold nose, and she finally ripped her eyes away from the horrid sight to hide her face in his fur yet again.

It was enough to just feel that Arthur was gone. That was all it had taken to break her down and make her, normally the last to leave a fight and the first to recover from a case, utterly helpless. Even in her darkest dreams, she couldn’t take the leap from knowing he was dead, and actually _seeing_ his battered form, splayed out and still as her mirror image cradled him close. Even Mystery seemed more taken aback than he’d planned, gazing down at the bruised, pale face of their fallen mechanic. For the two of them, it was the realization of a constant underlying fear, something that had tugged at their focus and whispered in the back of their minds since they first saw him, pale and bandaged and so small, too small, in a sea of hospital linens all those months ago.

Arthur, surprising himself, was...strangely calm, in comparison. Certainly, he’d flinched at the aftermath of what must have been a heinous beating, and if he hadn’t felt a jolt of pain at the fake Vivi’s sobs, seeing the real one fall to pieces wasn’t helping. But he carefully crouched down to get a closer look at the scene, instead of falling backwards and scrambling across the ground like anyone might’ve expected. He was morbidly curious, trying to determine which, of many plausible, fates had befallen the illusion.

It took him only a moment to recognize the dark bruises, shaped like thick fingers, on his dead copy’s neck, and he paled at the implication, just as the source reached out from behind him.

He caught a slowly creeping splash of black and white in his peripheral, and he cautiously began to turn his head, starting to dread what he was fairly certain he’d see.

“...Vivi-”

_“Don’t TOUCH HIM!”_

The lucid trio nearly jumped out of their skins at the false Vivi’s horrific shriek, and the outstretched arm dropped to the floor immediately. Arthur swallowed the lump that had shot into his throat at Vivi’s (imaginary) anguished screaming, and forced himself to turn around. The moment he did (Vivi and Mystery close behind, judging by the injured gasp and miserable whimpers), the moment he caught sight of the horrified skeleton ghost only inches away, his heart crashed to the ground.

It was amazing, really, just how emotive Lewis could be, even without a complete face. All it took was a tilt of the sockets, a slight upturn paired with wide rings of violet wavering under growing beads of glittering magenta, to tell the living audience just how much he was suffering. His posture was no less jarring; for all he towered above the others, chest out and tall and proud, he now curled inward. All of his weight seemed to rest on the hand he had reached out with, and the other pressed tightly against the front of his suit, fingers clenched so tightly around his (sluggish, grey, _damaged)_ anchor that Arthur instinctively knew he had to be hurting himself.

Both hands were spattered with blood. Arthur’s blood. Vivi wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to sleep again.

_“...how could you?”_

The dream Vivi’s voice was so soft they almost missed it, yet echoed throughout the space like the crack of a gunshot. The real Vivi whirled around so fast she almost got whiplash, teeth gritted in horror. Oh no. Oh, no, please, _no-_

_“How could you do this?”_

Lewis’s hand abandoned his sickly anchor, clamping over his face, as he tried to block out the reality (illusion) of what he was seeing. He shook his head fiercely, fat blobs of pink ectoplasmic tears squirming through his fingers and flaring out with the motion. His voice rattled out brokenly, all the power and depth gone.

“I...I didn’t want-”

He surged forward with a sob, curling in on himself with his head resting on the cold ground. He shook like a leaf, large shoulders heaving with violent sobs. Arthur bit his lip, feeling the burning tear tracks streaking along his own cheeks. He hadn’t seen the big guy break like this since they were children, since the dirty kid who lived at a mechanic shop and the girly orphan boy were everyone’s favorite targets on the playground. His first instinct, without even thinking, was to default to his response back then; he reached out, rubbing the ghost’s shoulder gently with his real arm, massaging soothing circles into the warm fabric. “Lew, hey, I-”

_“You killed him.”_

Arthur glared over his shoulder at the figment clinging to his imagined dead body. “Stop.”

_“It wasn’t his fault, and you still-”_

“Shut _up!”_

Lewis had gone deathly still under Arthur’s hand, and the three living interlopers were horrified to see his form flickering in and out like a dying fluorescent bulb. Loosely dangling from his lapel, his anchor pulsed softly every few seconds, a dull matte black, as cracks continued to spiderweb out with each painful throb.

_“You’re a monster.”_

With an enraged cry, Vivi’s fist impacted the illusion’s face, and she cracked apart like the damaged mirror she represented. The pieces of the false girl scattered across the floor, both her and the battered body vanishing into the darkness in a blink. The nightmare world was silent yet again, and Arthur jolted when he felt a shift under his hand. When the trio glanced back, they each made their own low sound of misery at the sight.

It wasn’t over. They’d slain one of Lewis’s devils, but the second had returned, now sprawled limp and blood-spattered in the ghost’s arms. The young man buried his skull into the dead boy’s chest, sobbing and shaking and choking out desperate pleas for forgiveness. Arthur felt Vivi’s little hand come up to clutch his shoulder, and the heavy weight of realization settled in the pit of his stomach. He had assumed his death was a background detail, a cruel catalyst for the real trauma of the scenario, the cold and piercing condemnations of the girl they loved. Now, as he watch one large hand come up to cup the back of his illusions head, saw the boy nuzzle his bony forehead into one bruised and smeared cheek with glittery tears pooling out of his sockets, he started to understand. 

This was Lewis’s greatest fear. This was what kept him up at night. Not what he could lose, but what he wanted to lose. What he had wanted for so long, what he would’ve done if he hadn’t learned the truth.

“I’m sorry…”

The lights in his tilted sockets flickered out, and he clung to the lifeless form like a child to a comfort doll.

“Artie, I’m so, _so sorry…”_

The anchor shuddered, pulse erratic as it continued to crack, and Arthur, overcome with a violent need to fix what he was seeing, reached out and snatched it. He cradled the damaged locket gently, rubbing calming circles into the cracked surface with his thumbs. Vivi reached around him, running one finger along the deepest wound with a shaky sigh. The large heart shuddered under their combined touch, but Lewis didn’t stir, still trembling as he cradled the ghost of his worst nightmare. Arthur sniffled, speaking directly to the anchor when he realized the man himself couldn’t hear.

“It’s okay, big guy.”

A gentle brush against the cracks.

“We’re here, we don’t blame you, you didn’t know.”

A soft squeeze, like a little hug around the heart.

“We love you, Lewis".

Arthur brushed his lips across the surface of the anchor, and a faint glow spread outwards from the source.

Lewis’s violet eyes blinked back into existence, and he gazed down at his empty arms in confusion, a low sound of misery building from his hollow chest. A warm, soft hand caught him under his jaw, and he allowed his skull to be tilted back, stunned. The moment he caught sight of the blond, still intact, still _breathing,_ he stiffened, unable to believe it. Arthur smiled softly at him, tears still pooling in eyes that shone with unabashed love and affection.

“Hi Lew.”

Lewis’s eyes slid over to Vivi, grinning at him over Arthur’s shoulder as she wiped another round of tears into her wrist. “Welcome back, Lew-Lew.”

Lewis returned his attention to Arthur, and with a shaky gasp, lifted one hand to cup the side of the mechanic’s face, desperately seeking confirmation that what he was seeing was real. Arthur sighed, leaning his cheek into the touch, and his hand left Lewis’s jaw to come to rest on his hand. He held the larger man’s palm to his face, basking in the warmth of his touch. “Still here, big guy.”

With a strangled cry, Lewis surged forward, burying his face into Arthur’s chest and sobbing as the smaller boy laughed as he stretched his arms around the weeping skeleton. Under the soft folds of vest and shirt, the blond’s heart beat steadily, and Lewis let the gentle pulses wash over him with relief. He felt a second pair of arms wrap around the two of them, and recognized the little pair of lips that pressed above his eye socket. 

“We did it, boys. We’re free.”

Mystery settled in alongside the humans, resting his head on his paws as his tails curled around the trio. One of Lewis’s free hands reached out to scratch the kitsune behind the ears, and he huffed happily. “The spell is breaking, children. Sleep easy, now.”

Arthur smirked. “What, we don’t get to defeat your worst nightmares?”

Mystery smiled up at him from behind his little glasses, letting himself relax as the ever-present, faint-but-there scent of lotus blossoms dispersed into the night. 

“You already have.”

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY SO SOMEONE COMMENTED ON THE FIRST REQUEST FILL AND SAID SOMETHING ABOUT SEEING BRAVE AND STRONG CHARACTERS IN FEAR AND FOR WHATEVER REASON THAT SPARKED SOMETHING BIG
> 
> This was like 9 pages in google docs and took like three or four days pray for me lmao I should be able to pick back up on requests in the next few days


End file.
